Hope Reawakened
by georgesgurl117
Summary: Nearly seven years have passed since the War was won. In that time, Hermione Granger managed to overcome grief and hardship in order to build a life in which she felt comfortable and relatively content. A snowy night in February, however, will show her that she ought never to have given up hope on having what she thought had been lost to her forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am not, to the best of my knowledge, J.K. Rowling, so any of the characters, events, or places you recognize are not mine. Though, wouldn't it be nice?**

**A/N: I'm certain that I will be receiving several complaints/comments that I should be focusing my time on _Bound to Him_ or my other WIPs. However, I hope you all understand that while I am always thinking about all of my stories, I cannot always bring myself to work on them. I have limited time for writing, but multitudes of plot bunnies, so some days I am more interested in working with certain ideas than others. While it slows down the completion of my stories, I feel like it enables a better product over all, so please be patient! **

**This is one of those shiny ideas taking up space in my creativity, which I have been picking away at gradually whenever experiencing temporary writer's block on my other stories. I hope you enjoy it, even though it isn't a coveted update to _Bound to Him_ or _Rumored in Love_ or even _Shepherd's Passage._ This work will include about a dozen chapters and is approximately 90 percent written already, so updates should be more regular. Please leave reviews, as I always love to hear your thoughts!  
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**-1-**

"Mum, can we go visit Dad?"

Hermione Granger paused while putting away the leftovers that Molly Weasley had sent home with them. Clearing her throat, she glanced down at the small, dark-eyed boy who was resting his chin on the countertop.

"Now?" she asked. "Brendan, it's getting late."

"So?" he returned, tilting his head.

"So," she stated slowly, "it's past your bed time as it is, and they're likely to close any minute."

Brendan's eyes were wide as he shook his head. "They're open til ten, though! I remember the sign. Plus it's my birthday. Can't I stay up on my _birthday_?"

With a loud sigh, the witch closed the icebox door and then tousled his hair. "We were just there a few days ago, you know."

"But it's my _birthday_, and I want to see him _today_," he whined. "Wouldn't he _want_ to see me on my birthday?"

Hermione smirked lightly as she took in his pleading gaze. "Alright, we can go."

"Yes!" He jumped up and down in excitement.

"But," she clarified, holding up her pointer finger. "_I_ want to see _you_ in coat, hat, _and_ mittens this time."

The boy let out a small huff. "Can I skip the scarf?"

"You may skip the scarf," she nodded.

"Okay!" he cried in excitement before scampering out of the kitchen.

With a shake of her head, Hermione gripped the edge of the countertop and took in a steadying breath. Despite the time that had passed and the number of visits they had made over the past two years, she still found herself struggling to keep her emotions under control. And when she could not quite manage the feat, it only broke her heart further afterward when her son would try to comfort her whenever he caught her crying. But if Brendan wanted to see his father, how could she deny him that? It made him happy, and she would do anything to see him smile.

"Come _on_, Mum!" the boy stated brightly as he popped back into the kitchen. "Are you ready yet?"

"Of course," she smiled, turning toward him. She adjusted his winter cap and straightened the collar of his coat before gesturing in the direction of the front door.

"Can we apparate?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at her with wide eyes.

Snorting quietly, Hermione nodded. After donning her heaviest travelling cloak, she pulled on her own hat and gloves and then took hold of her son's hand.

A moment later, the pair arrived on the northern edge of Hogsmeade village, and the boy immediately gave an excited squeal.

"Ten fingers, ten toes!" Brendan called, holding up his free mittened hand. "Two eyebrows, one nose!"

"All in one piece, then?" his mother asked in amusement.

"Yep," he nodded. "You didn't splinch me, Mum."

Laughing, the witch squeezed his hand as they walked down the quiet, snowy lane. As they neared their destination, she glanced down at him. "So what was it you wished for when you blew out the candles?"

"Muuum," he groaned. "If I _tell_ you, it won't come true!"

"Fair enough," she smiled. "Was it a good one?"

Her son nodded emphatically at the question. "The best."

"I bet it was," she agreed, pulling open the door to the Wizarding Wars Memorial Museum. "If it comes true, will you tell me then?"

"I s'pose so," the boy mumbled while stepping past her into the museum lobby. Immediately, he yanked off his hat and mittens and shoved them into his pockets.

With a smirk, Hermione reclaimed hold on his hand. Out of habit, she nodded toward the old witch at the front desk who was dozing quietly and then dutifully followed as her son tugged her through the corridors. When they were near the correct stall, she let go of his hand and watched as he scampered up onto the bench in front of the exhibit.

"Hi, Dad!" Brendan said quietly.

The witch smiled at her son and then took in a slow breath as she raised her eyes to the painted face. The familiar weight settled onto her chest as it did every time they came to visit him. The painting was so life-like that she had to fight the urge to reach out and stroke his cheek. She would give anything to feel the warmth that had been lost to her for nearly seven years, but the painful truth was that there would be none of it left in oil and canvas.

The portrait had the piercing gaze and the stern, yet smug upturn of his lips. It could not, however, capture the softness his eyes held whenever she was with him. There was no quiver of his lips while he fought to keep control of his smile as there had been whenever she walked into his classroom or passed him in the corridor. It could never don the carefree expression that he had worn during the summer afternoons they had worked together. It would never show the relief he had displayed whenever he found her in the wilderness, or the unmistakable fear that had flickered in his eyes when she would tell him of their planned movements. And it certainly could not replicate the tranquil bliss that had consumed his features after he had finally surrendered to her requests for more physical intimacy.

Hermione had never truly known the extent to which he loved her, but despite everything that Harry had seen in his memories, she could not deny that the man had cared for her deeply.

Even prior to their affair, he had accepted her assistance in the lab with very few complaints, and most of those had been directed at the Headmaster for assigning her the task without first consulting him. Throughout the summer before her sixth year, they had become quite comfortable in each other's presence, and when the last weeks of August brought her great sorrow as they approached the conclusion of their collaboration, she knew that she had fallen in love with him.

For months she had battled her feelings unsuccessfully, until she realized they could not – and should not – be repressed. She could sense his rising anxiety and pain as the year progressed, which had spurred her to offer him every instance of kindness she could manage. Before she left for the Burrow that Christmas, she had sought him out with the intention of giving him a handmade card, but had instead followed her heart when it suggested that her feelings would be better expressed by gently pressing her lips against his.

She could still remember the uncertain terror that had sent her rushing out of his office and had plagued her throughout the holiday. Upon her return, she had nearly died of mortification when he had asked to speak with her, but the feeling had vanished when he responded to her advances with apologies instead of anger. With her sworn to secrecy, he had confessed to her what would be required of him in the coming year in an attempt to dissuade her affections, but she had found them only strengthened. Time and time again she had assured him that she would not abandon him, and when she and the boys had gone on the run, she had brought Phineas Black's portrait with her so as to re-establish communication with him. When it was possible, he would come to her on the nights she held watch and sit disillusioned at her side.

While he had held her for some length of time each evening, they had gone no farther than exchanging a few tender kisses. She had always assumed there would be plenty of time to explore their feelings further, but while she had felt her strength waning under Bellatrix's wand at Malfoy Manor, she had realized just how foolish that was. During her recovery at Shell Cottage, she became determined to share as much with the wizard as she could. He had dismissed the notion the first time he had checked on her, but had been unable to refuse her for much longer.

If she closed her eyes, the witch could recall every last detail of the night they had first made love on one of the more secluded dunes that could not be seen from the cottage. She could almost hear the crash of the waves against the pebbled shore and the rustle of the long grass around them. She could smell the salt of the ocean and the fragrant perfume of the blooming sea lavender that had been carried upon the cool breeze. She could feel the roughness of his woolen cloak against the bare skin of her back, the tickle of his hair against her face, and the slight sinking of the cold sand beneath the fabric. Never would she forget how he had kissed every remnant of her session with Bellatrix, nor the soft assurances he had whispered in her ear, nor the gentleness with which he entered her, nor the intense pleasure that had invaded every cell of her body as they moved together in the moonlight.

Their time with each other that night had been limited as she had needed to return to the cottage and he to Hogwarts before anyone noticed their absence, but it had still allowed them a momentary escape from the horrors surrounding them. For a short while, they were the only two occupants of a private world afflicted not with conflict and death, but instead with desire and peace. There had only been one more frantic and frenzied coupling amidst the moonlit dunes the following week, but they had found within each other a renewed strength that had carried them through the remaining days of darkness.

"Mum, why doesn't he like me?"

Hermione startled out of her reverie to see her son staring back at her. "What do you mean?"

"He never talks to me," the boy shrugged before looking up at the portrait. "Professor Dummydoor always says hello to me and asks me lots of questions, but Daddy never does. And Teddy says _his_ mum and dad _always_ talk to him when he visits."

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighed, touching his head. "He has a different sort of picture, that's why. Your father's portrait is like a Muggle painting."

Brendan narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know, darling," the woman murmured honestly. Though a few museum administrators had claimed to have attempted enchanting it in the usual manner, there were rumors that they had purposely left him frozen for they were afraid of what might tumble out of his mouth. When she had questioned Harry on the matter, he had simply shrugged and asked if anyone could really blame them. Patrons of the museum came to pay their respects and to teach their children; they did not come to be insulted. While it pained her that she could not speak to him again, she could not deny for very long at all that Harry had a point.

"Are you _sure_ that's why?"

Hermione nodded and kissed the top of his head. "Yes, baby. If he could, he would talk to you."

"Are you really sure?"

"Yes." A smirk toyed at her lips. "Unless he absolutely had to, your father was never one to hold his tongue."

Her son frowned slightly as he considered the statement. "Why would he do that? That's just strange, Mum."

"It's an expression, dear."

"Not a very good one."

The tone of his voice was so similar to his father's sneer that it made her laugh in surprise. Wiping her face, she smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "I suppose it isn't."

As she returned her gaze to the portrait, Brendan casually hopped down to the floor and peered out from the stall. "Hey, Mum – what's wrong with that man?"

Hermione raised one eyebrow, but did not pull her eyes away from her former lover's likeness. "What man?"

"There's a man with a hooked stick," the boy explained, glancing up at her, "and he walks funny."

"That would be a _cane_; not a stick," she corrected with a small smile. "And it isn't polite to stare."

"But it's my birthday," he protested.

She briefly flicked her gaze to him in warning. "Brendan."

"Fine," he sighed, dropping his gaze to his feet. A moment later, however, he returned to his earlier observation of the newcomer. "He's stopped at your stall, Mum."

Hermione snickered softly and leaned her head against a pillar. "I imagine quite a lot of people stop there."

"Like us?" the boy queried hopefully.

"If you would like."

"Do you think he'll still be there when we are?"

The woman shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Good," he stated. "Then I can ask him why he walks funny."

"_Absolutely_ not."

"Mum!" Brendan hissed a moment later. "He's _touching_ you!"

"What?" she snapped, automatically covering his eyes with her hand as she reared her head back in concern. The boy gave a grunt of frustration as he pulled her hand away from his face, but Hermione did not appear to notice for she had frozen in place.

Though he wore a bulky, dark travelling cloak with a hood, there was something about the man's form that was incredibly familiar. And when he appeared to gently trace his gloved fingers over the bronze face of her sculpted likeness, her lips parted in shock.

Glancing up at his mother, Brendan noticed how focused her eyes were. "Mum, you said it isn't polite to stare."

The witch swallowed slowly as she continued to study the dark shape at the other end of the corridor. Her heart began pounding wildly as she watched the wizard lower his hood to reveal dark hair. Biting down on her bottom lip, she silently willed him to turn around so that she could see his face.

Almost as though he had heard her plea, the tall man glanced over his shoulder.

"Oh, my god," she whispered, feeling slightly as though the room were beginning to spin when he slowly turned to face her. Unconsciously, she crept forward and, as he similarly moved toward her, she could see the look of realization dawn upon his face.

His gait was different as noticeably favored his left leg, his hair was shorter than she ever remembered it being, and he sported a beard... but it was _him_.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy this story, as different as it is from my others. This semester is far nastier than I had originally envisioned, so I apologize for the lack of updates on my current WIPs.**

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**-2-**

Without making a sound, Hermione increased her pace until she was nearly running and, upon reaching him, she immediately threw her arms about his neck.

"Hermione," he whispered gruffly, pulling her snugly against his frame. "My gods."

Minutes passed as they silently clung to each other. Eventually, the witch pulled back just long enough to peer up at his face and then quickly reattached herself to his neck. "Severus! Is it really you?"

"Yes," he gasped as he pressed his nose against the side of her head.

"This isn't a dream?"

"If it is, it must be mine," he replied almost breathlessly, "and I wish never to wake from it."

The witch let out a gasping sigh and dug her fingers deeper into the soft fabric of his cloak. "Gods, Severus... I can't believe you're alive! Everyone thought you were dead. _I_ thought you were dead!"

"I thought I was, too, for a while," he murmured, tightening his grip on her. "Merlin, Hermione… I didn't know if you survived. No one ever told me anything except that Potter had succeeded. I never knew if you…"

"I did," she chuckled oddly.

"Gods, I've missed you so much," he gasped, burying his face into the fluffy curls of her hair. "I can't believe I found you."

As tears streamed down her cheeks, she took one step back and stared up into his own moist eyes. "Severus, I thought I watched you die."

"I… I'm so sorry," he replied quietly, cupping her face with his hand.

Her lower lip trembling, Hermione wiped at her eyes and once again squeezed herself against him.

While watching from a distance for several more minutes, Brendan studied the odd man who was holding his mother and making her cry. After a moment, he looked at the portrait of his father and then back down the corridor. Hesitantly, he came up behind his mother and tugged on her cloak.

"Mum," he whispered. "He kinda looks like…"

"I know, baby," she smiled, finally withdrawing her arms from the wizard and touching her son's head. "He does."

"Mum?" Severus repeated quietly, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "You are married?"

Her heart leaped into her throat at the sad expression that had suddenly appeared in his eyes, and she shook her head. "No. I'm not married."

Visibly confused, the man flicked his eyes down to the small boy and then back at her. "Then who…"

With a proud smile, Hermione drew her son in front of her body and cleared her throat. "Brendan, _this_ is Severus Snape. Severus... this beautiful, little boy is Brendan Severus Granger."

His dark eyes suddenly snapped to hers.

"He's just turned six," she added in confirmation of his silent question.

His lips parted as he again glanced between her and the child. Clearing his throat, he attempted to speak. "You were…"

Hermione nodded her head when he trailed off into silence. "I was, yes."

"I didn't know," he murmured dumbly.

"Neither did I," she smirked. "Not until three weeks or so after the battle at Hogwarts."

Brendan quirked his head as he looked up at his mother. "Is it _really_ him?"

"Yes," the witch laughed while running her fingers through his hair. "It's really him."

A bright smile broke out on the boy's face as he turned his gaze to the tall wizard. His chest puffed out slightly as he boasted, "It's my birthday today."

"It… is?" Snape asked, clearly overwhelmed.

"Mmm-hmm," Brendan nodded. "Mum let me stay up so I could come see you."

"See me?"

"You look different."

"Different?"

"Did you _really_ do all those things they said?"

"What—"

"Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry said –"

Hermione covered the boy's mouth with her hand and leaned down to whisper, "Slow down a bit, yeah?"

"Oops," he mumbled when she lowered her hand.

The witch cast an apologetic look toward Snape. "He gets rather talkative when he's excited."

"Must take after his mother, then," he murmured.

A blush graced her cheeks as she tapped her fidgeting son on the shoulder. "Perhaps you could show him what it is you mean."

"Oh, yeah!" the boy exclaimed. Without warning, he tore out of her grasp and snagged his father's hand in an attempt to pull him down the hallway.

"Brendan!" Hermione gasped in censure.

"It's alright," Severus stated, touching her arm briefly as he began moving in the direction that his son was tugging.

Taking in a deep breath, the woman followed several steps behind the pair. They were moving slower then she knew Brendan would have wanted, but the boy was being exceptionally patient as he walked with the limping man. As tears slipped out of her eyes, the witch rubbed at her face and then crossed her arms against her chest. A voice in the back of her head suggested pinching herself, but she was even too afraid to close her eyes for too long lest she find it all an elaborate dream.

After spending almost seven years in mourning, it turned out that Severus Snape – the hero who helped save the Wizarding World, the man she loved, and the father of her son – was alive.

So many questions coursed through her mind. _How was it possible? How did he survive? Where had he been? Why had he not tried to contact her? Who had known he was alive? Why come back now? Why come here? _But despite her desire to know everything, she was content enough at the present moment just to know that he was there. That he was living and breathing, in her direct line of sight, holding her child's – _their_ child's – hand.

"See?" Brendan stated, gesturing to the display that had been designed solely to celebrate the heroism of the Order's most valuable spy.

Hermione watched as the man's expression fell into one of utter disbelief. His dark eyes swept over all of the information and images presented, tightening briefly at the sight of the Death Eater mask and robes that were displayed in the corner.

"The bravest man I ever knew?" he stated, reading the embossed quote on the wall below his portrait.

"Harry said that," she explained quietly, resting her hand upon his arm. "At your funeral service."

"My funeral?"

Sniffling, she nodded. "I told you that we all thought you were dead."

"With no body?"

Her eyes fluttered closed as she dipped her head. After glancing down at her son who was obviously listening, she cast a quick _Muffliato_ before speaking. "The Aurors started incinerating the corpses of Death Eaters immediately after the battle. They didn't care who they were or even bother to report the number of bodies that they had disposed of. I tried to make it back to you as soon as I could, but by the time I could escape the infirmary, the shack was completely engulfed in flames. I tried to… to put out the fire, but I was so… so exhausted and such a mess that I couldn't… and I just… I just thought you were gone. You were gone, and I had…nothing to bury. I had nothing left of you… not until Brendan."

Severus blew out an uncomfortable breath as he touched the side of her face. "Hermione, I'm so –"

"It's okay," she mumbled, waving him off, but failing to stop the deluge of tears that had been threatening to fall. Covering her mouth with her hand, she collapsed onto the bench and bent forward as she sobbed.

"Hermione," he gasped, sinking down beside her and pulling her into his chest. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"Where have you been?" she hiccoughed, clutching onto his cloak. "I've missed you so much… so much."

"Mummy?"

At the panicked sound of her son's voice, Hermione pulled away from Snape and tried to wipe her eyes with the edge of her cloak. Gaining control of her breathing, she cancelled the silencing charm and attempted to smile. "I'm alright, darling. I promise."

Appearing as though he did not quite believe her, Brendan climbed onto her lap and wrapped his arms about her neck. "It's okay, Mummy."

"I know, sweetheart," she whispered. After placing a kiss to his forehead, the witch embraced him tightly and rested her cheek atop his hair. For several long seconds, she held Snape's sad gaze, and when he attempted to speak she shook her head. Gesturing to her son, she mouthed, "Not right now."

Severus gave a nod of understanding and let his eyes drift back to the stall for a number of minutes.

"Mummy, do you wanna go home now?"

"Just give me a moment," she replied.

"Can Daddy come home with us?"

The man swallowed hesitantly at the question and flicked his gaze to her. When she raised her eyebrows in inquiry, he slowly nodded.

"Of course he can, Bren," Hermione responded. After hearing his muffled word of excitement, she briefly pressed her lips to the top of his head and then moved one of her hands to Snape's thigh. "Did you want to look at anything else?"

Severus shook his head as he placed one hand atop hers. "I only came here to find you."

Her mouth parted at the admission, and she turned her hand over so that she could wrap her fingers around his.

"Have you had a moment yet?"

The boy's statement drew quiet snorts from both of his parents. With a sigh, his mother patted his back. "Yes, love. We can go. Now, are you going to walk, or do I have to carry you?"

At his muffled response, the witch rolled her eyes and withdrew her hand from Snape's in order to better hold onto her son while she stood. "He's usually in bed long before now."

"Not tired," Brendan argued.

"Well, you can tell your pillow that when we get home."

"Uh-uh," he protested, tightening his grip on her neck. "It's my birthday."

"Yes, well, birthday boys have to sleep, too."

"But what about Daddy?" he murmured. "He hasn't had any cake."

Hermione flipped her gaze back to the tall wizard, who was silently watching them with an odd expression on his face. Chewing on her lip, she took in a deep breath. "After he has some cake, will you go to bed?"

"Uh-huh," the boy nodded against her shoulder.

"Sorry," she smirked, catching the man's eyes. "Looks like you're going to have to suffer through a piece."

The corners of his mouth turned upwards as he rolled his shoulders. "I think I'll manage."

"Good," she smiled. "Erm, did you want me to give you the coordinates or Floo address? I know you don't like being apparated by –"

"Side-Along is fine," Severus replied, before hesitating, "Unless you would prefer that I Floo. I don't wish to impose."

"No, no. It's fine." She cleared her throat and adjusted the child to free up one of her arms. "I'm quite good at it, and it would be less hassle with the wards. I just knew that you preferred transporting yourself."

The wizard swallowed slowly and shook his head. "I do not mind."

"Were you ready –"

"Severus?"

Hermione froze at the soft interruption and immediately locked eyes with the dark-haired man. She could see every line in his face harden until it had essentially reverted into the expressionless mask he had worn during the War. Her stomach twisted in response to the change, and she unconsciously tightened her hold on her son.

"Mum," Brendan whispered. "Professor Dummydoor's calling."

"I know, dear," she murmured, before grabbing hold of her former lover's arm. "Severus, you don't need to –"

"I do," he muttered. "Where is he?"

The witch grimaced before gesturing to the left. "Just around the corner."

Giving a curt nod, Snape headed off in that direction. As Hermione watched him, she involuntarily thought of how graceful and powerful his exits had always been with his robes and the ends of his hair billowing in the light breeze he had created with the swiftness of his stride. To compare that to the slow, uneven gait he now demonstrated made her eyes sting with sorrow. Gone was the confident, proud, and arrogant wizard she had known as a student, and in his place was someone much more subdued and hesitant.

"What's wrong, Mummy?"

"Nothing," she lied with a small sniffle. Reclaiming her seat on the bench, she cleared her throat. "Daddy's just going to have a conversation with Professor Dumbledore, and then we'll be on our way. Why don't you close your eyes while we wait?"

"Okay," he sighed, pressing his forehead against her neck, "but you wake me up before 'parating."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! They keep me smiling.  
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**-3-**

Hermione sank back against her chair and slowly nursed a cup of tea as she watched her son chatter on about his birthday gifts. She could see that Severus was incredibly uncertain of how to interact with Brendan, but at least he appeared to be trying to figure it out. He could never have been considered 'kid-friendly' by anyone, and since their short-lived, wartime affair had solely been focused on the present, it was not as though they had ever thought to have the 'children' discussion. Even if he _had _asked her all of those years before if she had wanted to be a mother, she probably would have been hard-pressed to give a decisive answer.

But Fate had stepped in as it so often does and made the decision for her. Initially, she had panicked upon discovering she was pregnant, as she imagined any unwed, teenaged girl would have done. It was during the memorial service honoring the Order spy, which had been held in the newly restored Hogwarts castle two months following the Great Battle, however, that she realized she had been given a special part of Severus that would eventually develop into the sweetest and smartest little boy she had ever met.

And now that little boy was happily conversing with the father he had really never known. Hermione bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling and set down her teacup. It was all so surreal that Severus was alive and in her kitchen that she could not figure out how to react. On one hand, she wanted to grab hold of him and never let go, but it also concerned her that she had no idea where he had been or what he had been doing for the past seven years. He had not said anything at all regarding his earlier conversation with Dumbledore's portrait, and afterward he seemed almost hesitant about accompanying them home. Because of this, she was afraid to let her emotions lead her in case he was set to leave again. For her son's sake, if not her own, she had to hold it together.

The chiming of the clock in the hallway caught her attention, and the witch blew out a slow breath. Clearing her throat, she touched the boy's hand. "Brendan, sweetheart, it's time for bed."

Though the child had been yawning with noticeably drooping eyelids for several minutes, he still groaned. "Mum, it's –"

"As it so happens, your birthday officially ended thirty seconds ago," she interrupted, leaning forward. "And just what do you think Granma Molly will say if she finds out I've let you stay up _four_ hours past your bedtime, hmm?"

Brendan giggled as he slipped down from his chair. "Would she say your middle name?"

"If not worse," his mother nodded.

His eyes widened as far as they could in his sleepy state. "What's worse than _that_?"

Hermione snorted under her breath as she patted his bottom. "You don't want to know. Now, upstairs with you. Brush your teeth, and be in pajamas before I tuck you in."

"Ohhh-kay," he yawned, wiping his eyes. He was nearly to the kitchen door when he suddenly turned around and rushed back to the table. Throwing his arms about his unsuspecting father, he squeezed as tightly as he could. "Night, Daddy."

"Good night," Severus responded after a moment's pause.

The witch could not help the smile that spread across her face at the sight. Once the boy had scurried out of the room, she let out a soft sigh and wordlessly sent the used dishes into the sink.

"Did you… need to go to bed as well?" Snape asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I don't generally get much sleep on his birthday."

"I see," he mumbled.

"What about you?" Hermione questioned anxiously. "Did you need to get home, or… tell anyone where you are?"

"No."

The woman nodded slowly and then glanced up at the ceiling. "I need to put him to bed, but afterward… maybe we could talk?"

"I would like that."

"Okay," she stated, pushing up from her chair. "I'll, erm, be back in a moment."

With a nervous smile, Hermione quickly stepped out of the room and made her way to the staircase. Once upstairs, she paused for a few minutes before finally entering Brendan's room. A soft laugh escaped her upon seeing that the boy was already curled up with his eyes closed. After pulling the blankets up to his neck, she perched on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over the back of his head.

Brendan slowly blinked his eyes open and smiled up at her.

"I thought you were asleep," she smirked.

The boy shook his head. "I have to tell you something."

"Oh, really?" she asked, leaning down so that her face was close to his. "Is it a secret?"

He nodded and then propped up his head to whisper in her ear. "It came true."

Hermione's eyes widened as she turned her head to look at him. "Your birthday wish?"

"I wished that Daddy would talk to me."

"Oh, baby," she gasped, stroking the side of his face. "That was a really good wish, wasn't it?"

Yawning widely, he snuggled deeper under his blankets. "The best."

Blinking back tears, the witch placed a kiss to his temple. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you, too, Mum."

"Good night, then," she stated, straightening the edge of the comforter. After giving him another quick kiss, she stood up and moved toward the door.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, love?" the witch asked, turning around.

"I forgot to tell Daddy I love him."

Hermione drew in a quick breath of air as she tightened her grip on the doorknob. "I'll tell him for you."

"'Kay," he mumbled while closing his eyes.

His mother stood in the room until she was sure he had fallen asleep and then pulled the door shut behind her. Closing her eyes for a quick moment, she gathered every ounce of strength she could muster and descended the staircase. She was planning to return to the kitchen, but happened to catch sight of the wizard standing in front of the sitting room fireplace. A brief stab of panic hit her as she thought he might have been attempting to leave, but quickly she realized he was merely examining the framed photographs that sat atop the mantle.

There was the hint of a smile on his face as he picked up a small, wooden frame that portrayed Hermione playing in the snow with a heavily bundled up toddler.

"Could he even see?"

The woman snorted under her breath, both at the comment and at her naïve assumption that she could observe him undetected, and reached for the afghan which had fallen onto the floor in front of the sofa. She began folding it before answering him. "_Yes_. Mock me all you want, but when Harry, Ron, and George were dropping him and Teddy from their brooms into snowbanks, I thought it prudent for him to be well-padded."

Severus tightened his jaw at the thought of his son being handled in such a manner and then sighed as he replaced the photograph upon the mantel. "I don't see any men with you."

"You mean besides Harry and Ron?"

There was a hint of a smirk on his face as he responded, "I stand by my previous observation."

Hermione laughed softly and scratched her forehead. "No, there haven't been any men. It's just been Brendan and me."

Clearing his throat, he turned to face her.

She held up her hand when he was about to say something and then folded her arms against her stomach. "Before we discuss anything else, Severus, I need to know that you are here to stay. If it were just me, maybe I could take whatever it was that I could get from you, but I will not let that happen to him. I will not allow him to suffer that pain, so I need to know that you aren't going to suddenly leave again."

"Leave again?" he repeated in confusion. With a shake of his head, he moved toward her. "Hermione, I _never_ wanted to leave you. You're the only one I've thought about for the past seven years. The need to know what happened to you was the only thing that kept me going."

"Through _what_?" the witch snapped. "_Where_ have you _been_?"

Snape ran a hand through his hair as he donned an uncomfortable expression. "I was serving my sentence for the murder of Albus Dumbledore."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews!  
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><p><em><strong>Hope Reawakened<strong>_

**-4-**

"What?" she hissed. "You were in Azkaban?"

He shook his head. "I honestly don't know where I was. There was a small window in my… cell, but it certainly didn't look out on the North Sea."

"But there _wasn't_ any trial!" Hermione protested, grabbing hold of the chair in front of her. "No indication from _anyone_ that you were even _alive_! The entire Wizarding World mourned the death of a hero, and you're telling me that the Ministry had you locked away and didn't say a damn thing?"

"I suppose I am."

"My gods," she gasped while covering her cheeks with her hands. "How could they _do_ that? And you didn't _murder_ him, for Merlin's sake!"

"I cast the Killing Curse," he replied.

"On _his_ orders!"

"Which is why I am standing here and not still sitting in that room."

"But you _shouldn't_ have been there in the _first_ place," she argued.

Severus let out a sigh as he leaned his weight onto his cane. "Casting the Killing Curse carries a mandatory sentence."

"They lifted that mandate during the War," Hermione stated crossly. "Otherwise, half of the Order would be in prison right now. _Arthur Weasley_ would be in prison right now. _As_ would Kingsley."

He merely shrugged. "If you were to ask the Ministry, I'm quite certain they'll define the War as having started _after_ I killed him."

"But Kingsley's the Minister," the witch grumbled. "_He_ should have…"

She trailed off when he snorted sadly and shook his head. Rubbing her forehead, she let out a deep breath and grimaced upon noticing his stance. "Merlin, Severus, I'm sorry. You just came back from the dead as far as I'm concerned, and here I am arguing with you over something that wasn't even remotely your fault."

The wizard said nothing as she slowly approached him, but immediately held her tightly when she wrapped her arms around him. After a minute, he rested his face in her soft curls and sucked in a deep breath. "Hermione, I would never have willingly left you. Especially not if I had even considered for one moment that you could be carrying my child."

"Really?" she whispered.

"Gods, yes," Snape replied. "I love you, Hermione. I thought I was never going to get the chance to tell you."

The witch smiled brightly as she squeezed his midsection. "I so wanted to believe that you did."

"Yet you didn't?" he asked in surprise.

Hermione took in a slow breath and pulled back from him. "I know about Lily."

He closed his eyes briefly and ducked his head. "I meant to tell you everything. I just… I knew that if you knew the truth about why I was protecting Potter, that it would be too much to ask you not to tell him anything. I didn't want you dealing with any more stress than you had to, and if Potter discovered the truth before all of the Horcruxes had been found, it was too great a risk –"

"I know, Severus," she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I _know_. I'm not upset that you didn't tell me. I just… I loved you so much, and it hurt a bit to know that I wasn't the one you were thinking about at… at the end."

There was a clattering as the wizard dropped his cane to the floor and used both hands to cup her face. "Hermione, there wasn't one moment since you first kissed me that I haven't thought about you."

"But it was _Harry_ you wanted to see," the woman exclaimed. "You wanted him to look at you, and you talked about _her_ eyes."

"Merlin," Snape whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I'm sorry it appeared that way."

"How should it have appeared?"

"I was dying, Hermione, and there were so many regrets," he stated softly. "That I would never wake up with you in my arms… that I could never kiss you again… that I would never be able to see you happy… that you would never know how much I loved you. I knew that I had to tell Potter everything he needed to know, and while he was there, I kept thinking about all the times you told me I should be kinder to him or that you wished that the two of us would eventually become friends. I thought I would have had a bit more time to say good-bye to you, so I wanted him to know that I had never hated him and that his mother had been my best friend. I just... I ran out of time, and I'm so very sorry that I wasn't able to fight it longer."

There were thick tears slipping down her cheeks as she pulled his head down and desperately sought his mouth with her own. Moving his hands from her face to her waist, he drew her frame more tightly against his as he deepened the kiss. When she shifted her knee against the outside of his leg, however, he groaned in pain.

Hermione immediately pulled away in concern. "Oh, Merlin… I've hurt you."

"It's… it's fine," the man claimed as he reached down to squeeze the flesh just above his knee.

"Severus, I'm so sorry," she whimpered, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Don't." He shook his head as he straightened back to his full height. "It's not something I've never done to myself before."

The witch sucked in a quick breath before grabbing hold of his hand and gently tugging him in the direction of the sofa. "Come sit down. Is there anything I can –"

"No, it's alright," Severus muttered, sinking onto the cushion. "The pain's already diminished."

She nodded hesitantly as she claimed a seat beside him and then gingerly touched his left knee. When he did not flinch at the contact, she exhaled slowly. "What's wrong with it?"

"Side effect of the venom," he explained. "I suppose I should be grateful for the pain since it means it must be improving. Until two years ago, I had no sensation in that leg at all."

"Have you seen a Healer?" Hermione questioned.

The wizard gave a shrug. "As far as I know… no."

"As far as you know?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

He took in an uncomfortable breath and rubbed his forehead. "I wasn't quite conscious for the first six months or so of my incarceration. There were brief flashes, but nothing much. I couldn't see or speak, but I remember hearing the three of you leave, and then at some point there was a woman's voice. I thought for a moment it might have been you, but it didn't seem right."

"I'm so sorry," the woman whispered, hanging her head. "I didn't… I didn't know. I should have –"

"Hermione," Snape interrupted while lifting her chin. "You didn't do anything wrong. You did the only thing I wanted you to do – you kept yourself alive. You kept…you kept our son alive. I would not have wanted you to further jeopardize your safety for me. If you had… if you had died, I would have had nothing to live for."

Tears again rolled down her cheeks as she leaned into him and buried her face against his chest. As he squeezed her shoulder, she snuggled deeper into his side. "Who was it?"

"Narcissa Malfoy," he replied. "I assume she felt she owed me for protecting Draco. I don't know how long I was under her care before the Aurors came. I don't remember any of that. I only know what Shacklebolt told me at the time."

"So Kingsley visited you?"

"Oh, yes. The _esteemed_ Minister graced me with his presence," the wizard sneered. "It was one of the first few days I was fully aware. Before he showed up, I didn't know where the fuck I was. I couldn't speak or do anything more than move my head, and the only living thing I had seen was the mute house elf who popped in to shove potions down my throat and to clean me and the soiled linens. I woke up one morning – Christmas Eve, I guess it was – to see Shacklebolt sitting beside me. He explained that he was fully aware of the nature of my service, that he was exceptionally grateful for everything I had done, and that he regretted the necessity of my imprisonment. Because of that, he assured me that he would strive for the minimum time served and that he had spared me the humiliation of Azkaban. He told me that Potter had dispatched of the – of Voldemort, and that the Aurors who were in charge of rounding up the escaped Death Eaters had been surprised to find me stashed away at one of the Malfoy cottages."

Hermione sniffled quietly as she slipped her fingers in between his.

"I was relieved to hear that Potter survived, of course, but I kept waiting for him to mention you." Severus sighed and lifted their joined hands to his mouth, briefly pressing his lips against her knuckles. "He never did, though, and I was so angry with myself for being unable to ask him. It took nearly a year before I could manage anything intelligible, but I never had the chance again."

"He never came back?" she gasped.

The wizard shook his head. "He sent cards on Christmas with the generic yuletide greetings - and on the memorial anniversaries - but I didn't _see_ him again until two days ago when he came to release me."

"Didn't _anyone_ visit you?"

"Besides the elf who didn't speak?" he snorted sadly. "No. I didn't have any means of contacting anyone, either. The only thing there was to do besides contemplate the meaning of life was to read the very limited supply of Muggle literature provided. If I never hear of Shakespeare or Dickens again, it will be entirely too soon."

The woman took in a slow breath. "If only I had known, or if Harry had… I would have made Kingsley take me there."

The corners of his mouth turned upward as he ran his hand over her shoulder. "I would have liked to see him try to persuade you otherwise."

She gave a soft giggle and then peered up at him. "Why didn't you ask him about me when you were released? He knows where I live. He bloody well offered me a job last week."

The man swallowed uncomfortably as he looked toward the wall. "I considered it, but then I thought… that perhaps if you were alive, you would not appreciate having our prior association brought to light."

"Severus!" the witch cried, pushing into an upright position. "How could you think such a thing?"

He shrugged and placed his hands in his lap. "I'm the Death Eater who murdered the bearer of the Light. I spent nearly seven years locked in a room with nothing better to do than hope that your life had become everything you had wanted it to be. I thought you could have married, started a family, or achieved some prominent position. I had no wish to bring you scandal by showing too much interest in you."

"No," she whispered as she touched his face and forced him to look at her.

"I tried to send you a short note after I was released, just to see if you would respond," Snape murmured. "But when it came back undelivered, I started to fear that you… hadn't… that you were gone. I sat in the Leaky Cauldron for hours on end, hoping to hear some mention of your name, and nicked abandoned copies of the _Prophet_, but there was no trace of you. When I saw the advertisement for the museum, I thought I could at least find out whether or not you had lived. I never expected to find you there… and I never expected to find that I had fathered a child."

"I'm sorry about the letter," Hermione replied, stroking her thumb over the rough stubble on his jaw. "I've… I'm still a bit paranoid, I guess… especially with Brendan. The wards are strong enough that the house is basically Unplottable. The only post that gets through has to specify Roseling Cottage in the address."

He nodded. "Probably wise."

The witch grabbed hold of his hand again. "Severus, I would not have minded in the least to have people know about us. Anyone who matters to me already knows."

His dark eyes sought hers. "They do?"

She gave a quick nod and squeezed his hand. "I was an absolute wreck at your funeral. Given I was already ten weeks pregnant, I knew I couldn't do it alone. Obviously they would have asked about the identity of the father, and I would never have lied about you. Harry had told everyone what you had done for us, and I was proud to carry your child. Absolutely terrified, but proud."

"I'm sure they were all thrilled to find out."

Hermione smirked while ducking her head. "Well, of course I had to do some explaining. They weren't thrilled about it, no, but no one ever abandoned me. And they all love Brendan so much. He has so many people who care about him, but he's always missed having you in his life. He's just as proud of you as I am, and he tells anyone willing to listen to him about how heroic his father was."

Turning his head away, the wizard blinked rapidly to dispel the tears attempting to form in his eyes.

"Severus… very few people think of you as anything less than a hero, and most of those are serving sentences in Azkaban." She sighed and then reached out to stroke his face once more. "You saw the stall in the Hall of Heroes. Harry and Minerva made certain that your portrait hangs in the Headmaster's Office – though they happened to think you were being obstinate and pretending to sleep – and I have yet to visit your grave marker to find it unadorned with flowers and notes of gratitude. You, sir, even have your very own Chocolate Frog card."

A small laugh escaped her as he suddenly looked to her with the same expression of disbelief that frequented her son's face.

"Brendan has at least a half-dozen of you, I'm sure," the woman explained. "In fact, whenever his friends find you in their frogs, he immediately attempts to trade them. I came across his stash the other day while I was tidying up his room. Do you know how disconcerting it is to have six of you staring back at you?"

Severus snorted softly and leaned his head against the back of the sofa. "I find it disconcerting just to see one copy of myself."

His witch smiled as she pushed forward and kissed the bristly underside of his jaw. "I don't."

"I've had seven years to reflect on that particular fact, and still have yet to understand it."

"Perhaps you should just accept it and move on?" she suggested.

Smirking, he glanced out of the corner of his eye. "I see you're still the Brightest Witch of the Age."

Hermione wrinkled her nose and sighed. "You know I hate that title."

"If I'm to face the onslaught of 'The Bravest Man' tripe, I refuse to be the only one with a ridiculous title."

"Well, you and Harry could keep company." At his dark look, she laughed.

"He's the twerp who gave it to me," Snape grumbled.

The witch exhaled loudly and propped up her head as she leaned against the backrest. "Fine. If I must."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! Sorry about the long delay again. I just gave 3 hour-long presentations in the past two weeks, so I didn't have any time to spare during my prep stage. I will be working on the next installment of _Bound to Him_ this week and will hopefully have something ready by Thanksgiving.  
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><p><em><strong>Hope Reawakened<strong>_

**-5-**

After squeezing her kneecap, he let his hand rest upon her thigh for a long moment while he studied the line of photographs. Sucking in a nervous breath, Hermione set her hands on top of his and cleared her throat. "It's a bit after the fact, I know, but… Severus, I need to know how you feel about children."

Sensing the seriousness of her question, the wizard straightened in his seat and winced briefly after jarring his knee. "To be honest, I never really thought about the prospect."

"And now what are you thinking?"

An uncomfortable expression was on his face as he considered it. After a long moment of silence, he began speaking. "I hated my father growing up – I still do – and for a long time I resented my mother for always taking his side. I realized several years later that she likely thought that by appeasing him, she could spare the both of us more beatings than she could by standing up to him. She was probably right, and I regret that it took me so long to recognize it. My father was a horrible man, and I never wanted to follow in his footsteps. I've caused so much pain in my life that I don't want to cause any more."

He sighed deeply and met her teary gaze. "I don't know anything about dealing with small children, and you know how worthless I was attempting to deal with older ones. I am well aware that most students hated me, and I would never want my son to look upon me as I did my own father. I would not abandon either of you, but if it would spare either of you potential pain, I will accept a more limited role in his life. In either case, I vow to abstain from alcohol and to better control my temper."

Realizing that he was leaving the decision to her, Hermione sniffled loudly. Picking up his hand, she kissed his palm before placing it against her chest. "Severus, I trust you. I could see how it ate at you to have to do everything Dumbledore expected of you. I know how hard you worked to keep Harry safe, and I know that you would work twenty times as hard to protect your own child. Raising your own children is so much different than teaching someone else's, so that doesn't concern me. I know it will take time to be comfortable with it, but I know you'll manage it. Merlin knows I'm still learning and making mistakes daily. I don't know what I would have done without Molly and Arthur."

"Are you certain?" he whispered.

The witch nodded emphatically. "Brendan _loves_ you."

"He doesn't know me."

"He'll get to know you," she argued, pulling his hand back into her lap. "It doesn't matter that he just met you – he loves you all the same. He asked me to tell you as much before he fell asleep."

As the wizard silently stared at her, Hermione quirked a small smile and traced a fingertip over his knuckles. "At Christmas, Brendan offered up his Godric Gryffindor and Queen Maeve cards to Bill's daughter, Victoire, for her copy of you. Ron and Bill tried to explain to him that his cards were more valuable since there's a boatload of Wizarding Wars cards currently in circulation, but he didn't care because he said you were worth more than all of the other cards combined."

Severus blinked quickly and shook his head. "I'm not…"

"But to _him_ you are," the woman explained before donning another smirk. "Ron had a bit to drink that night and happened to blurt out that you weren't the greatest chap in the world. You should have seen the scowl on his little face – it's almost as intimidating as yours, I swear – and then Harry jumped in to try and smooth things over. He told Bren that Ron just meant that sometimes you would call them names – dunderheads and what not – and I kid you not, your son crossed his arms, glared at them both, and told them straight out that that was probably because they _were_ dunderheads."

His father chuckled quietly as he closed his eyes.

"They're all convinced that he had to have been you reincarnated," she smiled. After a moment, she squeezed his hands. "Bren's the reason you found us, you know. He wanted to spend his birthday with you, even if it meant just staring at your portrait for a few minutes. And do you know what he wished for when he blew out his candles?"

Snape hesitantly shook his head.

"The thing he wanted the most in this world was to have a conversation with you. He was concerned that the reason your portrait wouldn't talk to him was because you didn't like him." Taking in a deep breath, she shrugged her shoulders. "If you just continue to make an effort with him, he'll be happy."

Tears trickled down his cheek as he leaned forward and held his head in his hands. "What if I cock it up?"

"I'm sure you will," she smirked, rubbing his back. "Just as I'm sure I will, too. But we'll figure out what we did wrong, apologize, and then do it better the next time. Brendan is just as much your son as he is mine. He's resilient, and stubborn, and incredibly smart. He'll be perfectly fine. And if I ever think you're out of line, I won't hesitate to tell you."

The wizard chuckled softly and glanced back at her. "I give you full permission to hex me."

"I would do it, permission or not, if the situation called for it," the woman claimed.

"I believe you," he smiled, sitting back against the cushion.

"So you're going to stay with us?" Hermione asked hopefully.

The man nodded as he looked to her. "I don't want to be alone any longer."

"I don't want you to be alone either," she replied.

Holding his gaze, she pushed forward until her lips met his. As the short hairs on his chin tickled her face, she giggled quietly and wrinkled her nose.

"What is it?" Severus asked.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I just… I'm not quite used to you with facial hair yet."

"I see," he replied. "I wasn't ready to be recognized yet, so I didn't entirely remove it. I will certainly do so if –"

"No, no! It's… I don't mind it." Hermione cocked her head as she ran her fingertips over his well-trimmed beard. "It's different, but I think… I think you should leave it for a while. It suits you."

The wizard offered her a smile as he tucked a smooth curl behind her ear. "Well, I think your hair suits you remarkably well."

"I suppose that's another thing you can thank Brendan for," she smirked. "I never realized that pregnancy would solve the issue of my uncontrollable mane. It was a bit more time consuming and expensive than a bottle of Sleekeazy's, I grant you, but so far it seems to be permanent."

He gave a quiet laugh and eyed her thoughtfully for several seconds.

"I've missed you," he whispered before pushing forward to press his lips against hers. When he gently prodded her, she immediately granted his tongue access to her mouth. While she fell deeper into the kiss, her hands gripped his collar, and his moved smoothly along her spine. Pressing farther into him, she greedily attacked his mouth as though she were trying to absorb all taste of him. Responding in kind, Severus slid his hands down to her bottom and pulled her closer. As she moaned into his mouth, the witch raised herself onto her knees and then swung her leg over his lap. Upon straddling him, she ran her hands up the back of his neck until they were buried within his hair.

"Mmmgods," she groaned before peppering his face with butterfly kisses. "I can't believe… I have you back. I've missed you… so much. Please… please, don't leave me again. I can't lose you again."

"Never," he gasped, touching his forehead to hers and kissing her nose. "I don't ever want to let you go."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't. I need you. Severus… _we_ need you."

"And I need _you_," the man replied, cupping the back of her head as he seized her lips again.

As their kisses gradually turned salty with their tears, the witch felt a desire rising within her that was stronger than anything she had ever experienced. She had been in love with him for eight years – had grieved for what he had to do, had longed for his return to her, and had mourned for his loss. The moments he had spent with her in the past had never been enough, and even though she had known that the odds had always been against them, she had still held on to the belief that they would find each other after Voldemort fell. That hope had been ripped away from her in the Shrieking Shack, leaving her with an ache in her chest that had not diminished with time.

But now, by some miraculous twist of Fate, Hermione had him back. The pang of loss had vanished, and the hope that had abandoned her had suddenly returned with a vengeance. It was burning so vibrantly that she felt she could burst at any second. Severus Snape was alive. He loved her. He was hers, and she was his. He accepted her son and wanted to keep him safe and happy. He wanted to stay. He would not leave her.

Her feelings were overwhelming to say the least. It was becoming too much to bear. She needed more of him. Lips and hands were not enough to relieve her. She needed to feel him against her. She needed to feel him inside of her.

"Severus," the woman whispered, grinding herself against his arousal. As he groaned into her neck, she bit down on her bottom lip and rocked against him with greater urgency. Her core felt as though it was on fire, and she clutched onto him tightly and began to whimper with pleasure. When his lips attached themselves to her throat and one of his hands cupped her clothed breast, she came entirely undone with a muffled cry.

"Gods," she panted, sinking against his chest. "I didn't… know that was possible with… clothes on."

Snape gave a rumbling laugh as he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her shirt. "If you're wanton enough, it is."

"Oh, you have no idea," Hermione moaned before propping herself up enough to nip at his jaw. When he began to push up her shirt, she gave a small groan and shook her head. "No… bedroom."

"But we're here now," he whispered.

"I know," she sighed, pulling back a few inches. "But if Brendan wakes up… Learning his father is alive is one thing, but I'm certainly not ready for him to learn how exactly his father _became_ his father."

The wizard exhaled deeply and leaned his head against the back of the sofa.

"Come on," the witch murmured, carefully dismounting him and holding out her hand. "I can't lock the stairs or his room, but I _can_ lock my bedroom door."

"Give me a minute, witch," Severus mumbled, wiping a hand over his face. "I need to coax some of the blood back into the rest of my limbs first."

The woman giggled until she caught sight of his cane lying on the floor. An uncomfortable feeling gripped her stomach as she eyed him soberly. "Severus… can you manage the stairs?"

With a disheartened sigh, he glanced over his shoulder at the staircase. "I suppose we'll find out."

"I could apparate –"

"No." He shook his head and slowly pushed himself to his feet. "I have to attempt it sometime. It might as well be now."

"Okay," Hermione murmured, bending down to pick up his cane before offering him her arm. As they reached the staircase, she cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Severus… you are okay to… I mean, it isn't going to harm you if we –"

"I assure you, _that_ part of my anatomy is fully functional," he sneered.

She snorted softly under her breath while helping him with the ascent. "I had noticed that yes, but the rest of you is also required. I don't want to injure you."

"Any pain I encounter shall be well worth it," he ground out. "Though… you'll likely have to do a bit more of the work this time."

Though she blushed, her eyes continued to hold concern as they noticed how he grimaced with every step. "I hope you realize that we will be going to St. Mungo's tomorrow to fix you."

"I do hope you're referring to my leg," Snape quipped while pausing at the top of the stairs.

The witch let out a surprised laugh and then smiled up at him. "Of course! I won't let them do anything that might jeopardize my getting laid."

"Neither will I," he murmured as he bent over to massage his aching leg.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, touching his shoulder.

The wizard sucked in a slow breath before nodding his head. "Never better."

She snorted quietly and then squeezed his arm when he stood upright. "You used to be a far better liar."

"I'm not lying," Severus stated while glancing down at her.

Her mouth parted slightly as she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him. "I love you."

"And I you," he replied, wrapping his arms about her waist. "I would suffer every pain if it meant I could be with you."

A tear trickled down her cheek as she seized his lips. A soft squeal escaped her as he placed his hands beneath her bottom and picked her up. Releasing his mouth, she stared at him with wide eyes. "Severus! You shouldn't –"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, witch," the man murmured. "Just tell me which door leads to your bedroom."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: It's December already... whoa. Thanks for all of the reviews! I am glad you are enjoying this story, and while many of you are ready to see Kingsley get his comeuppance, you're going to have to be very patient. Hermione is unbelievably upset with him and the Ministry, but is overwhelmed and overjoyed by Severus's return and will be focusing her attention there for a while. The news will start to spread in upcoming chapters, though, so her temper will peek through here and there.**

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><p><strong>- 6 -<strong>

After spending hours getting reacquainted with one another and exploring all of the changes their bodies had accrued throughout the years, the pair lay tangled up in each other's limbs as the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon. While Hermione placed several soft kisses to the violent scarring at his throat, Severus closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation. After a moment, he slid one hand down her side and gently began stroking his fingertips over one of her stretch marks.

"Mmph," she sighed, stilling his hand with hers. "Don't point those out."

"You're the only one who can appreciate battle scars?" he asked.

The witch shook her head against his chest. "Those aren't from the War."

"I know," Snape murmured, "but that doesn't diminish their value."

Her cheeks heated at the statement, and she raised her head to look at him.

"You don't believe me?" he questioned in surprise. "You don't think that bearing a child is something to be honored?"

Blinking quickly, the woman lowered her mouth to his. A vibrant smile was on her face when she pulled back a moment later. "You really don't mind them?"

Severus smiled and cupped her cheek with his hand. "You are exceptionally beautiful, Hermione… and those marks only inspire me to worship you further."

"Merlin," she gasped before kissing him once again. "I would take you again if I weren't so exhausted."

"I would likely pass out halfway through," he groaned with a shake of his head.

"Well, we certainly can't have that," Hermione replied, patting his cheek. "You should get some sleep."

"As should you."

The witch placed her head back against his chest and exhaled loudly. "I don't want to sleep."

With a grunt of understanding, the wizard tightened his hold on her. "I'll still be here when you wake."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay," she whispered, closing her eyes. Fifteen minutes passed while she quietly listened to the beat of his heart, and when she realized that his breathing had not changed, she cleared her throat. "Severus?"

Exhaling slowly, the wizard squeezed her shoulder. "You're not sleeping."

"Neither are you," Hermione pointed out while she stretched her neck to view the clock on her bedside table. "There's really no point to it anyway. Brendan is usually up in an hour, and he'll be hungry, so I'll have to fix something for breakfast."

"Well, it _was_ his birthday yesterday," Snape shrugged.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning there's leftover cake."

Her eyes widened slightly as she pushed onto her elbow. "Severus Snape, _Mr. Disciplinarian_, is suggesting _cake_ for breakfast? E gads, someone alert the _Prophet_."

The man chuckled quietly. "We wouldn't want it to overshadow the 'returned-from-the-dead' debacle, now would we?"

"Ugh," she groaned, snuggling against his side. "They're going to be all over you."

"Unfortunately so," he agreed. "The Minister said he could only give me a few days' head start before he releases the hounds. I imagine I've exhausted any time I had to flee."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't run. And so is Brendan."

Severus gave a soft sigh and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I was going to if I had found you living happily."

"It's not that I wasn't happy," the witch mumbled. "I've had my friends and plenty of support… and I've had Brendan. He gives me so much joy. But it was just… I didn't feel complete. There was a piece of me missing."

She glanced up at him briefly and then added, "But now it's back."

"Rather misshapen and worse for wear," he sighed.

Hermione smirked and ran her fingertips over his jaw. "Only _slightly_ misshapen… and it still fits just fine."

"Thank the gods for that," the man grinned. "If that bloody snake had launched itself elsewhere…"

"Stop it," she laughed, smacking his chest. "I was being serious, and you're thinking about your penis."

"Well, if it's any consolation, my penis is only thinking about you."

"Severus!" she playfully admonished. "I suppose it is some consolation, yes, but I'm just happy to have you back. I would be happy even if you had parts missing."

"I wouldn't be," he grumbled. "I don't know what I would have done to pass the time."

A mischievous grin spread across her face as the witch propped herself up on an elbow. "I thought you said you spent it _reading_."

With a snort, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, Hermione. I spent seven years locked in a room and did nothing but read a stack of books and think entirely pure thoughts about you."

"Hmmm," she purred, pressing her lips against his. "Someday you'll have to tell me about these less-than-pure thoughts you've had about me."

"Mmmperhaps," Snape replied as he smirked up at her. "And what about you? It's been nearly seven years. Why weren't there any men in your life?"

Hermione blew out a long breath as she pulled herself into a seated position. "Well, at first I really didn't have any time or energy –I had a baby and NEWTs to deal with— and once things started to calm down a bit, I really just didn't have the inclination. It never felt right. I mean, Brendan has plenty of male influences in his life and I made sure that he knew about you. Obviously, he's wanted some interaction with you, but I think that was because he wanted to know his father and not because he needed a stand-in father-figure. We were okay, just the two of us."

The wizard watched as she left the bed long enough to fetch a nightgown from her wardrobe and pull it over her head. When she returned to perch beside him, he slowly sat up and scooted backward to rest against the headboard. Clearing his throat, he rested one hand upon her thigh and waited until she looked to him. "I am sorry for leaving you in that position... but I think you've done a remarkable job."

"Well, I don't know if I would call it _remarkable_," she sighed while slipping her fingers between his, "but I've managed. Molly and Arthur insisted upon our living at the Burrow for a few years until we all thought I could handle it on my own. And I was incredibly lucky to find a job that I can do from home primarily."

"What is it that you do?"

She quirked a small smile. "I'm a junior editor for a _reputable_ academic journal."

"Reputable," Severus murmured, narrowing his eyes. "Is it one with which I might be familiar?"

"Perhaps," the woman giggled while remembering the contents of an angry tirade he had once given regarding the editorial-ship of a few select Potions journals. "_The Practical Potioneer_."

As he grimaced, Hermione pulled on his hand. "Wait! Just listen. The former editor-in-chief—I believe you knew him as Old Dipshit McDuggins?– got the sack, oh, about four and a half years ago. You see, it turns out he had made some ridiculous declaration about never accepting or supporting the work of a young Potions Master who had contradicted his theory regarding the use of runespoor eggs for strengthening mental acuity. Well, it just so happens that that same contradictory Potions Master – who he claimed was of poor training and low moral fiber – not only sacrificed himself to bring down an evil tyrant bent on destroying the world as we know it, but was also responsible for a number of potion breakthroughs that have healed and or saved hundreds of witches and wizards over the past decade. Suddenly, a number of supposedly less-renowned journals were receiving attention for having published his work, leaving several to question just why the young Master had never graced the pages of Britain's premiere Potions journal."

The wizard snorted but kept his gazed locked onto her as he listened.

"And when an editorial in the_ Daily Prophet_ posed that very question, it led to a number of responses, including one anonymous letter –which may or may not have penned by that heroic, young Master's former assistant and secret lover – that gave an explicit explanation as to why _The Practical Potioneer_ had committed the largest academic faux pas in recent history." The brunette inhaled deeply and shrugged her shoulders. "And then Dipshit McDuggins was out, a progressive-minded member of the editing team was selected to replace him as editor-in-chief, leaving an opening to be filled by an eager, enthusiastic, at-times-insufferable, know-it-all witch with the drive to eliminate the ridiculous boundaries existing in the academic realm."

"Hermione, I –"

She held up her hand. "Hold on, I haven't quite finished my story. A few weeks into her tenure at the _Potioneer_, this junior editor used what some have called her exceptional talent for badgering to convince the editorial board to peruse decades' worth of rejected and ridiculed proposals to determine whether something of value had been overlooked. Lo and behold, they came across three papers submitted by the heroic Potions Master that had been rejected and ignored. After consulting with a number of other Masters across Europe and the States, the board was able to validate his findings and unanimously recommended all three papers for publication. And… this is my favorite part… based upon his evidence, many of those Masters have been inspired to re-examine and rework the standard treatment for the mentally-addled, leading to a number of new draughts in clinical trial, many of which are presently showing significant promise."

Snape stared at her for several seconds before shaking his head in disbelief. "You did _all_ of that?"

The woman smiled and nodded her head. "You're a brilliant man who deserves to have his work recognized. I knew that your ideas were worthwhile and needed to be shared. Besides, your name got me the job in the first place. I don't exactly have the degree of training they generally require, but the mention of my assistantship with you encouraged them to overlook it."

"Well, at least I managed to provide for my family in some means," he mumbled, still unable to fully comprehend everything she had done.

Hermione laughed softly and then leaned into him, kissing his lips. "You have no idea how happy I am that you just called us your family."

Inhaling sharply, the wizard threaded his fingers through her hair and held her firmly as he kissed her in return. With a soft moan, she sank against his chest and welcomed him into her mouth. Minutes later, they drew apart at the sound of a muffled creak.

"Mm," she whispered, patting his shoulder. "Bren's up."

"Ah."

Giving him a brief peck on the lips, the witch climbed off of the bed and snatched a robe off the back of a chair. While tossing it over her shoulders and tying it about her waist, she swept toward the door. She pulled it open just in time to catch her sleepy-eyed son by the shoulders and turn him around to face the opposite side of the hallway. "Loo first."

"Ohhkay, Mummy."

After watching the boy disappear into the bathroom, Hermione glanced back over her shoulder and smiled. "I'll take Brendan downstairs for breakfast. If you want to join us now, you're welcome to, but you can get some rest."

Spotting the bathroom door opening out of the corner of her eye, she raised one eyebrow at her son. "Hands?"

"Oh yeah," Brendan yawned, stepping back into the room to wash his hands.

Severus smirked slightly at the exchange and then cleared his throat. "I'll come down in a moment. I ought to use the loo myself."

"Well," she grinned, "Be sure to wash your hands when you do."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! Finals week here, and I have about 5 papers due this week. Since I don't have a lot of free time to work on stories, I thought I could at least quickly edit and post this. I look forward to hearing your thoughts!  
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><p><em><strong>Hope Reawakened<strong>_

**-7-**

"Did Daddy go away again?"

Hermione smiled down at her son and smoothed her hand over his hair. "No, sweetheart. He's still here. He'll be down in a little while."

The boy's eyes lit up as he paused on the last step of the staircase. "Is he going to stay with us, Mum?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Yes!" Brendan shouted as he jumped off of the stairs. After running into the kitchen, he hopped onto a chair at the table. "I can't wait to tell Teddy!"

His mother froze at the statement. Swallowing uncertainly, she rested one hand on the back of a chair. "Erm, Brendan… about Teddy—"

"His mum and dad aren't coming back, are they?" he interrupted quietly.

"No, baby," she replied, stroking the back of his head. "They can't."

"Thought so," the child murmured. "That's why their pictures talk to him. They wouldn't if they could come back."

With a small smile on her face, Hermione bent down to kiss the top of his head. "I still can't believe how smart you are."

Patting his shoulder, she walked further into the kitchen and opened up a cupboard to fetch three small plates.

"Hey, Mum. I was wondering… since I have both my parents, and Teddy doesn't have any… can I share you and Dad with him?"

A soft laugh escaped her as she looked over her shoulder. "Well, you see, he does have a grandmother who takes care of him, and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny –"

"But I have Granma Molly and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, too, _and_ Granpa Thur."

Hermione grinned as she did every time she heard her son talk about Arthur Weasley. She had spent a great deal of time attempting to get him to say '_Ar_thur' when he was smaller to no avail, but now that he _was_ capable of saying it, he rarely did so. Since the Weasley patriarch did not mind the odd shortening of his name in the least, and she thought it rather adorable, she had ceased her contrived attempts to correct him.

Momentarily lost in her wool-gathering, she forgot that her son was waiting for an acceptable answer. Growing impatient, Brendan leaned forward in his seat and pointedly stared at her.

Pinching her lips together to keep from giggling at his expression, the woman took in a deep breath. "I think… perhaps… erm, we'll have to get your father settled in… and, oh Merlin… and if Teddy would like to spend time with us… it shouldn't be a problem…"

The boy raised both eyebrows as he watched his mother struggling not to laugh, and the action was enough to send her over the edge.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled in between giggles while covering her face in embarrassment.

Her son frowned briefly in confusion and then lifted one eyebrow.

"Oh gods!" Hermione gasped before dissolving into another fit of laughter. It had always been bittersweet to see Severus's expressions on their son's face, but now that she knew the man was alive, well, and hers to keep, there was no residual sorrow accompanying her joy.

"Mum?"

She waved her hand in dismissal and spun to face the cupboard once again while gulping down air. Since she had been laughing too hard, she had not heard the creaking of the stairs as her lover slowly descended to the main floor. As such, when she turned back and found two matching looks of concerned uncertainty, it was almost too much to bear. Nearly doubling over, the witch took another minute and a half to calm down. Wiping tears of mirth out of her eyes, she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I'm fine. It's just… the two of you… I'm really fine. Severus, please do sit down."

Snape quirked a small grin as he watched her fetch the leftover cake, and then limped toward the nearest unoccupied seat.

"Morning, Dad!" Brendan greeted boldly when he finally trusted that his mother was alright.

"Good morning," he replied. After a moment, he rubbed his chin and leaned an elbow onto the table. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh-huh. Did you, Daddy?"

The wizard paused briefly and glanced up at Hermione, who had approached the table with two slices of cake. "It was certainly one of the best nights I've ever had."

"Birthday cake? For _breakfast_?" the boy exclaimed, staring first at the plate and then at his mother in disbelief.

The woman gave a shrug as she handed him a fork. "It was your father's idea."

Brendan looked to the man beside him and then back at his breakfast. A wide grin exploded on his face as he stabbed his fork into the icing and whispered, "Best birthday ever."

"Severus – coffee, tea, or juice?" Hermione asked as she stepped away from the table. "I think I'm going to need coffee myself."

"I quite agree," Severus nodded.

After setting the percolator onto the stove, the witch quickly filled a glass with orange juice for her son and then leaned back against the edge of the countertop. She was just about to say something when she heard the Floo flare to life in the sitting room.

"Hermione!" a familiar voice shouted. "You'd better bloody be awake!"

"In the kitchen!" she returned, biting back a laugh when Severus groaned.

A second later, a wide-eyed Harry Potter appeared in her line of vision.

"Hermione! You're never going to guess what I've just heard, but Snape is…" he stopped suddenly and then dropped his voice several levels, "…sitting in your kitchen… eating cake?"

A smug smirk appeared on Snape's face as he raised another bite to his mouth. "Astute as ever, Potter."

"Sir, you're… you're…" Harry swallowed nervously and then flicked his gaze toward his best friend. "You knew?"

The woman drew in a slow breath at his hurt expression and shook her head. "Not until last night."

Severus sighed as he set down his fork. "I take it this means that a correction regarding my current metabolic state is presently plastered across the front page of the _Prophet_?"

"N-no, sir," the younger wizard stammered. "Well, I mean, there's likely going to be a special edition printed to announce that… you're alive… but Kingsley just Flooed to tell me in person before he tells the press. I just… I can't believe… you're alive."

"How eloquent," the spy sneered.

"But _how_?"

"I think that's a conversation to be held another time," Hermione stated, gesturing her head in the direction of her son. "Don't you agree, Harry?"

"Oh… of course," the Auror nodded before donning a smile and tousling the boy's hair. "Hey, Brendan! How's my buddy today?"

"Good," the child replied, beaming up at him. "We're having cake for breakfast!"

"Really?" he gasped, leaning forward. "That's a fantastic idea!"

"Uh-huh," Brendan agreed. "You want some?"

Harry shook his head, patting his stomach as he pulled out a chair. "Oh, no, I'm alright. Your Aunt Ginny stuffed me up plenty this morning."

"Okay," the boy giggled. "Hey, are you going to take me flying again today? You said yesterday that you would the next time you saw me. You see me now."

"I did say that, didn't I?" the man chuckled. "I tell you what… if you ask your mum, and she thinks it's okay, I'll take you up. Got it?"

Brendan nodded eagerly and then turned his expectant gaze up at his mother. "Mum, is it okay?"

Hermione exhaled loudly as she set a coffee mug in front of his father and then sank into the sole remaining seat.

"Please," the boy begged. "I'll wear my hat and mittens _and_ scarf! Please, Mummy, _please_!"

The witch bit down on her bottom lip as she flicked her gaze to Severus, who was impassively staring at what remained of his cake. After a moment's consideration, she nodded her head. "Yes, you may go flying with Uncle Harry."

"Yes!"

"But finish your breakfast first," she chided. "And then go get dressed."

"Okay," he replied before determinedly shoveling his last few bites of cake into his mouth. After slurping down his juice, he flew out of the kitchen and raced up the staircase.

Harry chuckled quietly and pushed out of his chair. "Well, I guess I'll go fetch the Firebolt then."

With a slight grimace, Hermione stood and hurried after him. When they were both in the sitting room, she hissed his name.

"Yeah?" he murmured, turning around at the fireplace.

Folding her arms to her stomach, she approached him. "After you go flying, can you and Ginny keep him for a while?"

"Erm, yeah," her friend replied, narrowing his eyes at her sober expression. "I suppose so. Is something wrong?"

The witch shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "I don't know really. I need to take Severus to St. Mungo's today, and I don't think that Brendan needs to be there. I'm not certain how long it will take, so if you and Gin are busy, can you take him to the Burrow?"

"We didn't have any plans, so we can certainly watch him," Harry answered. "Is he… is _he_ alright?"

She grimaced and let out an irritated huff. "They didn't treat him."

"What?"

Hermione glanced back in the direction of the stairs before answering. "Narcissa Malfoy saved him. She started treating him, but when the Aurors took her and Draco into custody, they also took him and locked him away somewhere else. He can't remember much, and wasn't fully conscious until that Christmas when Kingsley came to see him.

"Harry, he couldn't _do_ anything. He couldn't even speak for year, and who knows how bloody long he laid there completely paralyzed! His leg is hurting him – he's trying to play it down, but I _know_ he must be in pain – and do you know what he _told_ me? That he should be grateful for the pain because until two years ago he couldn't feel that leg at all! Which means… that for… for nearly five years, he couldn't… he probably couldn't walk… and no one told him that… that he's a hero… and he didn't even know… if I was alive… and… he didn't... kn-know...ab-bout..."

"Hermione," her friend sighed, wrapping his arms about her quivering frame. "Calm down."

"How _could_ they?" she whispered into his robes. "How could they do that to him? After everything…"

"I don't know," Harry growled, "but I'm certainly going to make sure that Kingsley knows my feelings on the matter."

"Kingsley knew damn well who Brendan's father is, and yet never bothered to tell Severus that he had a son." The woman pulled away from her friend and angrily shook her head as she gestured to an armchair. "He sat right bloody there not even a week ago and commented that their resemblance was uncanny. He _knew_ about Brendan; he _knew_ about my relationship with Severus; and yet he didn't make an effort to tell either one of us that the other survived! Notice that I haven't even received a personal Floo call, and Severus was released days ago!"

"Well, he probably figured that you would hex his bollocks six ways from Sunday," he snorted.

She glared at the fireplace and then sighed. "When you speak with him, would you do me a favor? Tell him he can take his job offer and shove it up his –"

"Mum!"

Hermione pinched her eyes shut and wiped her face before turning around to face her son. "Yes, baby?"

Brendan held up his green scarf as he came down the stairs. "Can you help me?"

"Of course," she smiled, moving toward him. Grabbing hold of it, she made quick work of wrapping it around his neck and tucked it under the collar of his coat. "There you go. Now, be a good boy for Uncle Harry."

"Okay," he agreed after she kissed his forehead and patted his bottom. "Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad!"

The witch looked up to see Severus leaning in the doorway to the kitchen with an inscrutable look on his face.

"Ready to go, bud?" Harry asked, catching hold of Brendan as he ran toward him and swinging him up onto his shoulders.

"Yep!"

"Alrighty then," the man laughed. When he reached the fireplace, he lifted Brendan off of his shoulders and set him back onto the floor. Holding out the container of Floo powder, he allowed the boy to open up the connection and then gave a tense smile toward the other two occupants of the room. "I'll see you soon, Hermione, and I'm really glad to see you again, sir."

"Come on, Uncle Harry!"

"Okay, okay! I'm coming!"

As the green flames swallowed them up, Hermione sighed and moved toward her wizard. Concerned by the injured expression on his face, she reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. "Are you alright?"

Though he tightened his jaw, Severus covered her hand with his and nodded.

"Do you want anything more to eat or drink?"

"No."

The witch sucked in a quick breath and gave a quick nod. "I guess I'll pop upstairs quick and get dressed for the day, and then we could head over to St. Mungo's while it's still early. As long as you're agreeable, of course."

"That should be acceptable."

She blinked at the quiet statement and then slowly pulled away from him. His complete lack of protest about venturing out into public for treatment could only serve as confirmation of her fears regarding his current level of pain. Severus Snape, changed or not, was a proud and stubborn man who hated having to admit when he needed help.

Pausing momentarily at the head of the staircase, she looked over her shoulder and noticed him staring solemnly in the direction of the fireplace. Though her gut twisted with anxiety, Hermione exhaled deeply and whispered assurances to herself. "We're going to figure this out. Everything's going to be okay."


End file.
